


Songs to Sylaise

by solemnsuns



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Mind Games, Suspension Of Disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solemnsuns/pseuds/solemnsuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick one-shot. Slyaise and Fen'Harel meeting up again after the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition. Both of them immediately attempt to outsmart the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Songs to Sylaise

**Author's Note:**

> Just pretend that Mythal isn't harboring inside Fen'Harel/Solas? Otherwise things get awkward real quick.

Sylaise was known for her beauty, but seeing it appear after so many years made him take a breath. He had forgotten the glow that he and the others had once possessed. And she was no exception.  

He felt a dull pang of nostalgia. Remembering a life long dead.

Her skin gleamed in the candlelight, giving off its own radiance. She was her own source of light, the ancient fire burning bright beneath her skin. The fade rippled around her hands, causing the mana in the room to room to draw towards her.

Even he felt the suction, lingering at his fingertips and making them buzz. It made him want to cast spell after spell, just to feel the magic course through his veins.

She laughed, sharp peals that bounced and cascaded with the flow of the music. The room seemed centered around her, objects balancing precariously within her own orbit. This world was so unaccustomed to the bleeding of power his kind possessed; the allure they must cause to mortal beings.

She met his gaze and nodded towards him, smile bringing fleshy folds to her cheeks. Disentangling herself from the crowd, she stepped towards him, feet still moving rhythmically to the music.

He stretched out a hand and she took it, mana rushing to meet his.

It was an old ritual. A custom to greet a friend, a social kiss. A quick brush to signify greetings and acceptance. An act long since forgotten in the marks of time.

“Dance with me, doddering fool.” She winked, gesturing to his rather singular placement for the evening, “or are you afraid of your own feet?”

He sighed, more out of the act than actual emotion. It wouldn’t do to refuse her. Besides he had long since wanted to test what walls she had created since her wakening. He would not waste the opportunity presented before him. “I fear it has been some time.”

She laughed at that, “You make yourself sound more the old man.” She took his hand in hers and pulled him bodily into the throng. “Impress me, Dread Wolf, or I shall think you a wild mongrel.”

Distantly, he could see the bait she left before him, tricks of a much subtler hunt than her sister. But it was a game they both could play.

He took in the music for a moment, listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of the song, the halting cadences this age had to offer. Sylaise swayed to it, one continuous roll of motion that threatened to drag him under.

He could not underestimate the fire.

The players moved to a quick jaunt and he pulled her with him into the music. One step here, a quick twist, a foot placed there, and the old pattern quickly returned to him.  A courtly dance to start, it would give him time.

But Sylaise pulled at him, threatening to take the lead. Making her steps a single instance ahead of his. That would not do, she could not force his hand. His gripped turned tighter and pushed her into a spin.

She laughed, hair spinning. One foot arched into the crowd, before she took the quick step back and changed the pattern. Did she think to make him miss? She moved faster, leaning into the beat of the music. Steps no longer followed the courtly dance, but one of darker revelry. _A test._

She swung her hips wide, brushing a quick hand across his. Her mana pulled along at his skin and he could feel his magic already stretching to meet hers. He gripped her closer and pulled her further into the swell, feet rushing to meet the hurried measures of the song.

She met him at each turn, swinging openly into his lead, and rushing into the next step. Her body was a current next to his, sweeping into each lapping motion like the tide. Eyes wide and laughing, she glowed brighter than the fire of the torches dotting the walls. He could feel his magic seep slowly into hers; feel the power that resided within. The first fire glowed proudly and he lapped at it, relishing the feeling.

Allowing himself a moment of gluttony, he felt whole, more so than he had in ages. As her power edged into his, he could feel his strength return. Sense the veil beginning to bend around them. Each step threatened to become a mark, each spin a new line to add to a flowing rune. They could create ancient magic like this: create form, change a season, strike a hole in the veil.

Suddenly, he felt her mana pool into his more eagerly, a devious gleam across her face. “We could make them fear us, Dread Wolf,” she murmured, drawing him close.  Voice a ready whisper in his ear. “Show them real power.” Her magic sparked within him, hints of the flames he could so readily draw from, he could do so much. With the glowing fire, he could set–.

**No.** He pulled away, forcing his magic back from hers. “It would be wrong. We would be lesser because of it.” He forced his voice into hard lines, not allowing the tremor through. He would not allow her to know how close, how ready he–.

She sighed and brushed a finger along his wrist, “No need to snarl, Wolf,” she twisted against him, “it was merely an idea.”

He spun her away from him, “It was the wrong one.”

A hot inky press of magic dug itself into his spine and he quickly brushed his eyes closed to take a breath, tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth. He took a breath and stepped back, ignoring the sudden temptation she brought to mind. He could thrust her into a corner and bend the fade around them. Show her what power he still possessed. How readily she should still be wary of the Dread Wolf.

She clicked her tongue, bringing him back to the present. “You’ve lost your fun.”

He kept slipping, _damn her_. He had forgotten how persistently she played. The more fool he. “Perhaps, I had not often considered it.” A quick curl of the lip and she looked away into the crowd, eyes dancing.

He slowed their steps and gently slipped his hand from hers. Bending, he nodded to her and prepared to take his leave.

She softly brushed at his arm, “I no longer recognize you, Wolf, and I am yet unsure what that means.” Her mana flitted towards his, perfunctory this time, and she stepped away with turned head.

An intricate ruse of compassion. So, the ancient Game had begun in full. Interest burned within him, such old players would create a complicated sport. And he  found himself looking forward to what would soon come. It would not do to underestimate her fire and the stakes were deliciously high.

As he took his place along the wall, he planned for their next match. Mind racing on how to best steel himself. It had been so long since he had played, but it had been even longer since he had lost.

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a weird story at least chronologically. Where are they dancing? I have no clue. Why are they at at a bustling event? No idea. Why is no one else freaking out to have some super crazy god-like beings just chilling around? You got me. Where did Sylaise even come from? Good question, no answer.


End file.
